


All Out Of Clerics

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3148247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You should find a cleric that can cast <i>cure disease</i> on you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Out Of Clerics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolves_and_girls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolves_and_girls/gifts).



> Jessy and I are both sick with weird not-flu things, I thought this might make her feel a bit better. The title and summary reference D&D and Pathfinder; the summary is almost word for word what a friend said to me over Facebook. <3

Natasha was curled on her bed in her suite, miserable and aching. This had come on gradually, so she had attributed the soreness to a vigorous workout with Steve, sparring with Sam, going to the range with Clint and then trying to end off the day doing yoga with Bruce. Tony and Pepper had been at the Malibu house rather than at Avengers Tower, or else she might have done something with them, too.

This was what she got for being _social._ And trying to work off her frustration with a certain trickster god that had forgotten about her.

Okay, she hadn't really expected him to come back. There had been shouting and threatening gestures and her knife against his throat as she told him not to bother the Avengers in his fruitless pursuit to annoy Thor. The thunder god went between Asgard and Midgard regularly, but the Averngers refused to be tricked into helping Loki do anything to harm him. That was a challenge as far as Loki was concerned, of course, but he had arched into her and seemed to be almost turned on by her threats. "I would not promise such things, were I in your place," he had purred seductively. "Perhaps your tender mercies are quite sought after."

It had to have been a spell laced into her for her to dream of him doing all kinds of wicked, nasty, wonderfully pleasurable things to her. Every night. For a month afterward.

But that was neither here nor there, because that frustration had built up, caused her to overwork herself, and now she had caught whatever miserable virus was floating around New York City like the next plague.

She was congested, had chills and was possibly running a fever. It seemed like too much effort to get up to find a thermometer or even to call out to JARVIS to read her temperature for her. Hell, it was too much effort to even roll over onto her other side. Sometimes her breathing felt tight and awful in her chest, not quite burning and not quite an itch. It was easier to simply lay unmoving, conserving what little energy she had left. Clint would think to look for her eventually. Or she would hit whatever safety parameter JARVIS had set on her, and he would alert the authorities to find her body.

Natasha was never sick often, but she was, it hit her _hard._

Dozing and shivering off and on, it was likely just her imagination when there was a clucking noise behind her. If that was Clint making fun of her, she would pop him in the mouth as soon as she could properly make a fist. "Did you bring me tea?" she croaked, still shivering. Great. Now her voice was going, too. Wonderful.

The clucking stopped, and the silence behind her sounded almost thoughtful. "You're sick," Loki said behind her, amazed. "Oh. I thought you were caught under the same... _infatuation_ that I seem to be."

With effort, Natasha turned over and rested her bleary eyes on Loki. She gave him a decidedly unamused look. "If you want me to kill you, come back another day. I feel like death warmed over as it is." Possibly not a smart move if he wanted to kill her, but odds were good that he didn't. She likely would have been dead already if he did.

There was actual concern on his face, and his armor dematerialized. Sitting down beside her, he pushed the lank red hair from her face. "You're feverish."

She merely groaned and shivered. "Yeah," she said after a moment, not bothering with sarcasm.

"I have had... thoughts. Since our last encounter."

"Not really the time to talk about it now, Loki," Natasha managed to say. A coughing fit overtook her, and it was with perverse joy that she noticed the moue of distaste on his face. A self proclaimed god was afraid of a few germs? That was good to know.

He conjured a cup of green tea with honey, and helped her sit up to drink it. Loki was warm, warmer than she would have expected, and was actually very nice to lean on. Solid. Wiry, but with strength masked by his frame. His hands fit nicely along her back or her hip, just as they had in her erotic dreams. And apparently, he had similar thoughts since their last encounter. Good to know. She could work with that at some point.

"Why are you here?" she rasped after she finished the tea. The cup simply disappeared once she was done with it.

"Perhaps I needed to be here," he murmured, not meeting her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

Slowly at first, Loki started telling her a few children's stories he knew, ignoring her incredulous looks. When she tired of green tea, he had jasmine or ginseng, rose hip and chamomile and lavender blended together. His hands were cool on her face and neck as he inspected her closely. At her shaky request, he even created chicken noodle and then matzo ball soup. He sat there with her, letting her lean on him, practically cuddling, a strong arm around her shoulders when the shivers seemed to take over.

Hours later, Natasha tumbled back into wakefulness, her body curled around Loki's relentless warmth. She was surprised that he was still there with her, watching over her as she slept, a cool hand brushing her hair away from her sweaty brow.

"You're still here," she croaked.

He nodded, a troubled expression on his face. "I'm not good," Loki said finally. "My magic can do great harm, can fool and beguile. I thought I had ensorcelled us both before."

"And now what do you think?"

"Now, I think it is far worse than that."

Before she could ask what he meant, Loki placed his other hand on her forehead. His fingers traced odd patterns on her skin, and then a warmth filled her body. As it receded, so did the chills and fever and aches.

"Literature on your planet tells of holy healers. Clerics. Good men and women, bound in the service of others, repaid only in thanks, only in the good regard that others have for them." He looked at her, an odd intensity in his eyes she couldn't quite name. "I am no cleric, Natasha. I am not good, I am not holy, I don't wish to be repaid in mere thanks."

"Then why are you here?" Natasha asked, her voice back to normal.

His mouth crashed down to hers, frustration and desire and _want_ all mixed together, the familiar taste from her dreams.

And then he was gone.

Natasha felt deflated, then jumped out of bed to shower and change. Loki might not be a cleric, but that wasn't the kind of man she was interested in anyway.

The End


End file.
